Christmas 221b Drabbles: An Advent Calender
by Sunshine Through The Storm
Summary: Does what it says on the tin. This is an advent series throughout December, watching our favourite couples as they celebrate the holiday season through the medium of 221b drabbles. Includes Mystrade, Dimolly, Johnlock, Santhea and MorMor. Will be updated most days, depending on my workload.
1. Hot Chocolate

**Prompt:** Hot Chocolate

**Inspired By:** Sherlock: 3:47am, IBegToDreamAndDiffer and The Case of the Blue Duvet, MrsCumberbatch

**Pairings:** Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Mycroft was working in the living room, his laptop warming his thighs and a collection of important documents spread around him like a fairy ring. A balloon popped up, informing him of a new email. He scanned the message and sighed. Why did he agree to host this year's office party? He had enough work as it was.

A particularly loud crash of thunder shook the entire house.

Mycroft paid the storm no attention, jotting notes in handwriting like copperplate. Gregory had commented on this soon after they'd met, saying it was like Sherlock's handwriting. Unsurprising, since Mycroft had been Sherlock's teacher.

The door creaked open, and in shuffled a bedraggled Detective Inspector. "Hey."

"What are you doing awake?" Mycroft asked gently. He closed all the windows on his laptop, placing it on the floor. "Are you brontophobic?"

Greg looked at him blankly, "Does that mean I'm scared of storms? Because then, yes, yes I am."

The politician smiled, wrapping his arms around his darling. "You're frozen, _mon chérie_."

"Mm."

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" Mycroft asked. He sounded genuinely concerned about the cold cop, wrapped inside his soft blue blanket.

"Mm," Greg repeated, muffled against Mycroft's slender torso. "Lovely."

Snuggled under a virtual mountain of duvets, Greg Lestrade slurped his drink. "I have the best boyfriend ever," he beamed.

* * *

This is my attempt at writing an advent calender style thing. It is Sherlock drabbles, and will be updated most days. I may miss some days with all my work, but I'll try to keep it up to date. The five pairings are Mystrade, Dimolly, Johnlock, Santhea and MorMor. So, if you're interested, just hit the subscribe button!

Sunshine :)


	2. Angels

**Prompt:** Angels

**Inspired By:** Building Molly and Dimmock's house on The Sims

**Pairings:** Molly Hooper/DI Dimmock

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Detective Inspector Eugene Dimmock hung his coat on the peg at the foot of the staircase before going up to find his fiancée. "Angel?" He entered the kitchen and found a note stuck to their fridge.

_Paged into work. Back around 5 x_

Gene smiled and checked his watch. It was coming up to four now, so he had about an hour to set up his surprise. More than enough time.

"I'm home!" Molly called up the stairs, spying her sweetie's overcoat. She unravelled her blue and bronze scarf and hooked it on the peg beside Dimmock's coat. Then she shrugged off her own coat and hung it over the scarf. There was a definite chill in the air._ Might even snow this side of New Year._ "Gene?" Molly called again.

"Yeah, Mol?" Eugene Dimmock leant on the bannister at the top of the stairs, looking down at the pathologist. "You look absolutely frozen, angel. Tea?"

"Make it a coffee," Molly climbed the stairs wearily. "Gwen's got flu, so I had to cover her shift." She rubbed an eye with the heel of her palm. She walked into the living room and gasped. "Oh, Eugene!"

Dimmock had made chains of paper angels holding hands. Each one had been coloured to look like Molly, Dimmock's angel.

"Do you like them?"

"They're beautiful."

* * *

Yes, I should probably mention that I use The Sims to build characters' houses. It just helps me to visualise them better. Dimmock and Molly live in a house where the kitchen, living room and spare bedroom are on the top floor, and their bedroom, the bathroom and the study are on the ground floor. I have no idea why I pictured their house like that, but there you are.

Sunshine :)


	3. Writing Christmas Cards

**Prompt:** Writing Christmas Cards

**Inspired By:** 221b Drabbles, IBegToDreamAndDiffer

**Pairings:** Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Times like these are when Greg is pleased to have an extended family that he isn't close to. Mycroft was sat at the kitchen table beside a stack of Christmas cards and their envelopes.

"Do you write a card to every person you know, then?" Greg asked, leaping onto the table with absurd grace for a man of his age and fitness.

"Gregory, please, people eat there," Mycroft wrote his name elegantly with the fountain pen. He carefully slid the card into the crisp envelope and sealed it, squiggling the names of the recipients across the front. _A. Barry & S. Donovan._

"You're writing a card to Sally and Anthea?"

"Anthea is a very good friend of mine, Gregory, and I'd like to congratulate both her and Sally on moving in together."

Greg looked almost scandalised. "Nobody told me!"

The corner of Mycroft's mouth kinked into a smile, "It's a surprise, Gregory. Please don't spoil it for Sergeant Donovan. Have you written your sister a card yet?"

"Not yet," Greg admitted. "I was rather hoping that'd be your next one."

Mycroft sighed dramatically, flicking the card open. He uncapped his fountain pen before stopping once again. "Should I address her as Roberta?"

"Nobody calls her Roberta. Call her Bobbin."

Mycroft leant over the card, speaking softly as he wrote, "Dear Bobbin…"

* * *

In my headcanon, Greg has one sister who is his twin called Roberta, but they all call her Bobbin instead. Bobbin has two children, Megan and Lucian who Greg dotes on, but rarely sees.


	4. Gingerbread

**Prompt:** Gingerbread

**Inspired By:** Watching old episodes of Scott and Bailey

**Pairings:** Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Not for the first time, Sebastian Moran wondered about what goes on inside his lover's head. Well, he _was_ baking gingerbread people, and icing them to look like victims from his favourite crimes.

"Sebby, look!" Jim crowed, holding up a gingerbread character that had been pulverised. "It's Jack the Ripper's last victim."

"Lovely, Jim."

"And I've got the bride in the bath."

"Are you going to eat them or play with them, Jim?" Seb raised a brow as Moriarty pulled another tray of fresh gingerbread men from the oven, and laid them along the side like little soldiers.

"Play and then eat," Jim grinned wolfishly. "I like to lull them into a false sense of security. Eat one, they're really good."

The sniper wasn't in the mood to argue against Jim's crazier habits. "Fine." He selected a hot one with his thumb and index finger, and crunched on it loudly. "They're all right."

Jim squealed. "I knew you'd love them. I made this too." He held out two gingerbread men. One had dark hair and a crooked smile; the other had blond hair and a stern expression. "What do you think?"

"You made us?" For some reason, Seb found that fact touching. "That's… good, Jim. You crazy little bastard."

"Isn't it?" Jim beamed, proud to be labelled a crazy little bastard.

* * *

Right, dear anyone who has reviewed/followed/other for the last chapter, I haven't seen anything so far because my computer's decided that it's going to not allow me access to my email account. So I'm very frustrated right now. How was your day?

Sunshine :)


	5. Presents

**Prompt:** Presents

**Inspired By:** The Adventure of the Civil Partnership, Rairakku1234

**Pairings:** John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"Sherlock, are you busy, love?" John called, shedding his coat in the centre of the living room. "I have a present for you."

"I just got out the shower," Sherlock called. "I wasn't expecting you home yet."

John rolled his eyes, "I don't spend that much time with Greg."

"Mm," Sherlock exited the bathroom, dressed solely in socks and his Armani suit trousers. "You said something about a present?"

"This is an early one to show how much I love you," John said, holding out the green box. He tipped it into Sherlock's waiting palm. "Go on; deduce it like you always do. Show off."

The consulting detective frowned at the cube. There were no tell-tale signs of what it could be. _John, beautiful John, how can you be so wonderfully clever?_ How could he wrap it and make it impossible to deduce? He cautiously shook it. "John, why did you buy me a necklace?"

"You'll see," John smiled, gesturing for Sherlock to open the little box. "It's for when you have to take your wedding ring off. Instead of putting it in your pocket, you can wear it around your neck," John explained. "That way, everyone can see that you're mine."

"I'm always yours, John," Sherlock gave the army doctor a clumsy hug. "Thank you for my gift. It's brilliant."

* * *

Borrowing the idea from Rairakku; Molly buys Sherlock and John chains as presents so they don't have to keep taking their wedding rings off when they do doctorly/detectively things.

Sunshine :)


	6. Shopping

**Chapter Title: **Shopping

**Inspired By: **Sherlock: Wrapping On Presents, IBegToDreamAndDiffer

**Pairings: **Sally Donovan/Anthea

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"Having fun there, Annie?" Sally teased, seeing her girlfriend weighed down by many bags of shopping. They were walking along Oxford Street, fighting the holiday crowds that were barging past.

"I'm fine, babe, honestly," Anthea smiled. "I'm a lot stronger than I look. Anyway, you've got more than your fair share of the bags. Give me some."

"No," Sally shook her head. "I've got more because your stuff is heavier." The sergeant stopped outside a Swarovski shop, entranced by the crystal jewellery. "Isn't that necklace pretty, Annie?"

"I'll buy it for you," Anthea said.

"Don't be so silly, Annie. You can't spend six hundred quid on me." Sally attempted to squeeze Anthea's hand but found the shopping in the way. "Besides, I'd feel awkward wearing it."

"Don't worry," Anthea smiled, squeezing Sally's hand. "I just want to give you something that I can be completely selfless with." She laughed. "Well, asking you to move in with me is kinda selfish, isn't it?"

Sally paused, letting Anthea's words sink in. "You… want me… to move in… with you?"

"Yes."

Anthea practically went flying with the force that Sally hugged her. "Of course I will, Annie. Of course I will."

"Wonderful," Anthea stated, catching Sally's lips with a romantic kiss, and not caring that they were halting the Oxford Street hustle and bustle.

* * *

A double update today because I didn't post for yesterday. Sorry about that. It's colder than average for this time of year, and my central heating's broken so I'm typing this wrapped in a duvet, and I've got a coat, scarf and gloves on.


	7. Candy Canes

**Prompt: **Candy Canes

**Inspired By:** Watching my friend do her maths work

**Pairings:** John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

The consulting detective was jotting calculations and equations related to the results of his experiment when the sharp scent of mint flooded the back of his throat. "John?"

John finished his loud crunching with an equally loud swallow. "Yes, my love?"

"What are you eating?"

"It's a candy cane," John showed him the box of pinstriped walking sticks, lined into neat rows. "I bought them to go on our tree, but I couldn't resist have one."

"I can resist anything but temptation," Sherlock quoted, adding a pipette of ethanoic acid to the solution of sodium hydrogen carbonate. It began to froth up over the sides of the measuring jug and spread across the table.

"I hope you're going to clean up that mess before it drips on the floor," John said from behind his newspaper. "I told you to stop making baking soda volcanoes."

"And I will," Sherlock got to his feet. "As soon as I figure out which poison, which quantity, and at which time the killer placed…" The rest of Sherlock's speech was muffled as John shoved a cane into his love's glorious gob. Well, Sherlock needed the calories.

"I loved these when I was small, John," A sticky consulting detective sprawled across the army doctor and sighed contentedly.

"I noticed," John replied dryly. "You ate the whole box."

* * *

I'm a sucker for having Sherlock stuff himself with sweets and cakes and treats, so (as it is Christmas) I thought I'd indulge myself with this. And that's why Sherlock ate all John's sweets.


	8. Christmas Carols

**Prompt:** Christmas Carols or Songs

** Inspired By:** My friend can sign the whole of _Away In A Manger_

**Pairings:** Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Mycroft sat at the piano and played a scale to warm up. He hadn't played in a while, but the chords played together well. Gregory was still sleeping; he'd had a long day. A lot of murders around Christmas.

Mycroft brought the music book closer so that he could examine each song in turn. He didn't often use sheet music, preferring to learn a piece off by heart and play it from memory. He hadn't played anything new in years.

_However._ It was the season to be jolly and Mycroft had a peculiar need to play a Christmas carol on his piano. Maybe this whole urge was based on the fact that Gregory had informed Mycroft of his ability to sign last night. What was it that he'd said? His cousin was deaf, and it was just something he remembered from his childhood. He could sign basic things such as his name, hello, and for some strange reason the whole of _Away In A Manger_.

"Mycroft?" The DI yawned. "What're you doing?"

"I thought I'd indulge myself in a little piano playing," the politician smiled, gesturing the grand instrument.

Greg wrapped warm arms around his love. "Well then," he said, muffled against Mycroft's scapula, "If music be the food of love, play on."

Mycroft grinned, "William Shakespeare, the nation's favourite Bard."

* * *

Me and my friend can both sign Away In A Manger the whole way through in British Sign Language because we learnt it in primary school. It's still pretty amazing how many times we can bring it up in conversation, really.

Sunshine :)


	9. Christmas Jumpers

**Prompt:** Christmas Jumpers

**Inspired By:** Minutiae, Or 156 Things I Know About You, Atlin Merrick

**Pairings:** John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

**Word Count: **221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

John Watson owns a frankly alarming collection of jumpers. Really, some of them are disturbing. Sure, he has nice ones like the red stripy one, and the oatmeal cable knit one from his much-loved grandmother Theresa Watson.

Sherlock discovered the dark side of John's collection in December when he'd reluctantly agreed to come shopping. Asda has some awful clothes around the holiday season, and the detective often wonders who would buy such atrocities. Turns out, John Watson does.

"What do you think, Sherlock? The snowflake one or the reindeer?" John held both side by side.

"They are both hideous and should be burnt."

"Stop sulking, you miserable sod," John poked out his tongue. "I'll get the snowflakes."

"John, do you really need more jumpers?" Sherlock asked. The woollen texture of the reindeer's face brushed against the back of his hand. "If you do, Mrs. Hudson can knit one. You're always saying that we need to save money." The disgusting jumper was beginning to burn his eyes, but he couldn't look away.

"Sherlock, I am getting a new jumper, okay." John placed a hand on his hip. To the experienced John-watcher, such as Sherlock was, this was a warning signal.

"Okay, John."

"Thank you," the sandy-haired man said. "Now, which one? Snowflakes or Rudolf?"

"Snowflakes," Sherlock shrugged. "I suppose they're more bearable."

* * *

A nice two-in-one for you again; days 8 and 9. Also a two-in-one for this drabble as we get to see Sherlock going Christmas shopping... ish.

Sunshine :)


	10. Snuggling By The Fire

**Prompt: **Snuggling by the fire

**Inspired By:** "Far from having a mania to set things on fire, Sherlock will tell you he's more concerned with understanding how flames take things apart." Minutiae: Or 156 Things I Know About You, Atlin Merrick (chapter 3)

**Pairings:** Molly Hooper/DI Dimmock

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Molly watched with interest as Eugene Dimmock stoked the fire. Bits of old newspaper slowly caught alight, crumpling into grey ash.

"I love sitting by an open fire," Dimmock admitted, feeding three cocktail sticks through the grate. "Faith, my older sister, hated the way it made her hair frizz, but Mikey enjoyed watching it take things apart."

"Lily was a bit of a pyromaniac too," Molly said, tugging the duvet under her chin. "That's why my parents bought a fireguard."

"Crazy siblings are the best," Eugene sat back on his heels, pleased with the blaze. Molly tilted her head, face bathed in golden light from the fireplace. "I'm thirsty now," Dimmock declared, slapping a hand on his thigh. "Tea?"

"Hot chocolate would be lovely if we have any," Molly smiled, plaiting her hair.

"Your wish is my command, Miss Hooper," Eugene Dimmock bowed low, bouncing along to the kitchen.

Molly had been so lucky when she found Gene. Following Jim, Sherlock had deduced and analysed each potential boyfriend. Eugene had no faults in Sherlock's ever-critical eyes. He had a lot of potential both as a boyfriend and a DI.

Molly accepted the warm Eeyore mug she was given. "Thanks sweetness. Come, sit with me."

Cuddling by a fire with her fiancé, Molly felt like the luckiest girl this side of Betelgeuse.

* * *

Day 10: I'm a bit nervous about this piece as mentioning my headcanonical (that's a word now) siblings for Molly and Dimmock is kinda big. But since they're up there and I've mentioned other peoples' siblings, I felt like they needed a mention too. I don't know why it's different for Molly and Dimmock; I didn't have these issues when writing about Greg's twin sister or Sally's brothers and sisters. Ramble over now.

Sunshine :)


	11. Christmas Hats

**Prompt:** Christmas Hats

**Inspired By:** My dad's new Santa hat ("Bah, humbug!")

**Pairings:** James Moriarty/Sebastian Moran

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"I am not wearing _that_!" The sound of disgust rang throughout their entire floor. "Jim, you've gotta be kidding."

"Oh, but Sebby, it's perfect for you!"

"It's not happening."

"Spoilsport."

Moriarty flounced off, discarding the two Christmas hats on the top of the television set. Seb grunted scornfully. He could be as stubborn as the consulting criminal when he wanted to be, and right now, Sebastian Moran most definitely wanted to be.

Although, if he thought about it, the fact that Jim had gone through all that effort to find the _perfect_ Santa hat for him was rather cute. If Seb used 'cute' to describe things, that was. It was black, with the words "Bah, Humbug" embroidered into the white trim. The sniper glanced at the hats on top of the TV.

Jim strode into the main room after his shower, dressed in his new Father Christmas dressing gown and reindeer pyjamas. Picking up a gingerbread man, he finally looked at Moran. "Are you coming to bed, Sebby, my precious penguin?"

Seb grunted, "M'watching QI."

"Do you like your hat after all?" Jim asked sweetly, biting the head off his gingerbread man. "It really does suit you."

"Bah, humbug," Seb said. He glanced up to meet Jim's eyes and grinned. "Go on, go to bed. I'll be in in a bit."

* * *

As an interesting sidenote, I was watching repeats of Britain Unzipped and the two presenters were calling each other their "TV Husbands". And then one called the other his precious little penguin, and it was a 'headcanon accepted' moment. Hence, Jim calls Moran his precious little penguin.

Sunshine :)


	12. Stocking Fillers

**Prompt:** Stocking Fillers

**Inspired By: **"There's always an orange in a stocking, and chocolate coins, and a sugar mouse. Everyone knows that." Martin Crieff, Cabin Pressure, Molokai (Christmas Special 2010).

**Pairings: **Sally Donovan/Anthea

**Word Count: **221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Sally was dividing up the goodies that they'd bought into equal piles for her nieces and nephews. Each child had an orange and a walnut, and now Sally was trying to remember GCSE Maths lessons by dividing fifty by seven. _Fifty by seven doesn't go fully, so it's seven remainder one. Therefore they have seven chocolate coins each._

"Heads or tails?" Anthea balanced the spare coin on her thumb. She was knitting the stockings herself because she enjoyed knitting, and because it made the gifts more personal. "Go on," she urged. "Pick one."

Sally conceded, "Heads."

The chocolate disc was propelled into the air, landing back in Anthea's hand. She slapped it onto the back of her other hand. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she slowly moved her hand. "It's tails. You lose."

"I lose what?" Sally asked, sprawling on her front to poke the piles some more. "That one's for you, by the way."

"Because you only like white chocolate," Anthea bit down and let the chocolate taste disperse across her tongue. "Anyway, you have to accompany me to the office party."

Sally grinned. "I'm already coming." She placed a small box in each collection of treats, "How are those stockings coming, Bubbles?"

"Almost as cute as those sugar mice," Anthea held up a stocking with green and red bands.

* * *

This might be a good point to tell you all that I've only got up to day 16 written, so there may be delays on the horizon. I am working on them though. I have a half-written drabble still in its first draft in my notebook and I'm writing it in my free periods between lessons.

Thank you to all that have favourited, subscribed and reviewed. It makes me very happy that people are reading my stuff.

Sunshine :)


	13. Decorating The House

**Prompt:** Decorating the house

**Inspired By:** My cousin is in South Africa (and has sunburn)

**Pairings:** Molly Hooper/DI Dimmock

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

When Molly arrived home, Eugene was already pulling boxes out of the loft. An old white Christmas tree stood in parts at the top of the stairs, wreathed by tins of baubles and a garland of fairy lights. "Hello angel," Eugene called in response to the door opening and shutting. "Good day?"

"It wasn't too bad," Molly replied, sifting through the post in her hands. "We've got a card from your sister, Gene. Oh, and a postcard from Lily."

"She and Alex enjoying Melbourne?" Eugene inquired, his arms full of dusty tinsel. "Gimme a hand, would you, Mol?"

"Yeah," Molly dashed up the stairs to Eugene's aid. "She's got sunburn."

"Hope it hurts."

"Come on," Molly giggled. "Let's get this tree up and decorated."

Forty-five minutes later, after the tree had been manoeuvred into the corner with minimal damage, and the fairy lights had been wound around it, Molly grew lively.

Eugene was trying to lasso the tree with tinsel when a bauble pinged off his cheek. "Oi!" He saw Molly collapsed in a heap of giggles and smirked.

"Ow!" Molly complained as a bauble struck her ear. "Hey, that's an heirloom ornament from my sister."

"Is that why it says 'Happy Christmas, my dear Accident'?"

"Yes," Molly replied. "You've met Lily. She's a bitch."

"And you're not?" Eugene beamed broadly.

* * *

Another piece of my headcanon here: Molly's one of those people that is really quiet and normal, but every once in a while she gets bored and starts being really annoying. And having mini-fights is always fun when you're really comfortable being around that person.

Sunshine :)


	14. Christmas Baking

**Prompt:** Christmas Baking

**Inspired By:** Feeding Sherlock, Atlin Merrick

**Pairings:** John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Sherlock woke to the scent of baking and an empty bed. Either somebody had broken in to use their oven, or John was using the kitchen for its culinary purposes – a sight not often beheld in 221b Baker Street.

"John?" The consulting detective tried to wind his way out of his bedclothes. John liked to tuck Sherlock into a tortilla-like wrap of blankets to keep him toasty. That's what he said, anyway. Sherlock had scoffed at John's use of the word 'toasty':

"_I'm not food, John."_

"_But you're so delicious I could eat you up."_

Sherlock stumbled down the stairs in his dressing gown and his sheet, rubbing an eye with a long finger. "Good morning sleepy," John greeted, elbows-deep in dough. "I'd hug you, but you'll get covered in flour."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the mess in the kitchen. "John, we don't bake in this house."

"Cheer up, it's Christmas," John poked out his tongue. "And we do bake in this house. Remember that foot I found in here last weekend?"

"That was an experiment."

"So's this," The doctor flicked a ball of dough at the detective. "Now get your finger out the sugar," John added, as Sherlock dipped a finger into the sugar bowl.

"Make me."

Due to the ensuing food fight, neither noticed the smell of burning.

* * *

I really like it when Sherlock and John have food fights. And when John hugs Sherlock covered in flour so that his coat has white handprints all up the back.

Sunshine :)


	15. Snowmen

**Prompt:** Snowman

**Inspired By:** Mystrade Advent Calendar, Pawfoot

**Pairings:** Molly Hooper/DI Dimmock

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Molly Hooper is about thirty-one going on six sometimes. Not often, but it happens. Any extended period of time in the company of her twin sister will do the trick, as will waking up on her day off to find the world has been covered in snow.

Molly jumped out of bed with a delighted squeal. "Gene, look outside!"

"Go away," Dimmock replied grumpily. "M'sleeping." He wrapped the thick duvet around himself even more, sinking back under the covers.

"I'm making breakfast. Care to join me?" Molly teased, finding Dimmock's head in the burrito of blankets. He frowned at her, so she kissed his eyebrow and skipped to the kitchen in her nightie. Molly had always enjoyed the snow, which a lot of people found curious. She'd never been particularly outdoorsy.

Once breakfast was over, Molly hurried back downstairs to get dressed. Eugene was still cozied into a cocoon of covers. "Gonna turn into a butterfly if you stay in there much longer," the pathologist joked. Once she was dressed, she blew Dimmock a kiss. "Love you."

"Wear a sweater."

Two hours later, Molly had built the body of a snowman and was now making his head. "Fabulous, Mol," Dimmock commented. He helped lift the head onto the body. Let's go inside and find his face. Your fingers are turning blue."

* * *

Because we all love adorable Molly being adorable. This wasn't really both of them making a snowman, but I like the way it turned out.

Sunshine :)


	16. Christmas Parties

**Prompt:** Christmas Parties

**Inspired By:** Sherlock: Let's Play A Game, IBegToDreamAndDiffer

**Pairings:** Sally Donovan/Anthea; Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"Ariel! Ariel!" A blonde woman called from across the room. She was gesturing for Anthea to come over to her. Sally caught Greg's eye as he chatted to a redheaded woman. He grinned, putting her at ease.

"Enjoying the weather, Lauren?" Anthea asked the blonde, sipping from her plastic cup.

"Makes a change from Melbourne," Lauren laughed. "Is this your Sally?" She turned the policewoman, "Lauren Reilly."

"Sally Donovan," Sally shook the hand she was offered. "So you're the PA to Australia, then?"

Lauren laughed again sweetly. "Personal assistant to Ms. Adelaide Barnestone, yes."

"I heard my name," the lithe woman that had been speaking with Greg joined the conversation. "Anita, my dear, I'm so glad you've finally found someone."

"Thank you," Anthea smiled. "Sally, this is Adelaide. Adelaide, this is my Sally."

"Pleasure." Adelaide turned to Mycroft, "It is absolutely freezing in here. Back home, I could be drinking white wine in the sun."

Sally rubbed her head. "You okay, babe?" Anthea asked.

"A bit of a headache; I'm fine, really," Sally said.

"Let's get away from the noise," Anthea suggested. She propelled Sally through the crowds into the quiet hallway. The PA pointed above the doorframe, "Mistletoe."

Sally smiled, "Pucker up babe."

They kissed softly. "I love you," Anthea said. "When you're feeling better, I'll introduce you to Bettina."

* * *

It's the drabble you've been waiting for: hope I didn't disappoint. This is also the last drabble I have typed up, so you may have to wait slightly longer for the next ones. I'll be super busy over the next week, studying for my mock exam in Politics. But I'll try to have drabbles posted within a reasonable time period, because it's an advent calendar. Thanks for your patience.

Sunshine :)


	17. Pantomime

**Prompt: **Pantomime

**Inspired By:** Tripping over my own foot, because I have the grace of a ballet dancer

**Pairings:** Molly Hooper/DI Dimmock

**Word Count: **221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"It's a long time since anybody took me to the pantomime," Molly gushed. She clutched her programme excitedly with one hand, and Eugene's arm in the other. They were going to see Dick Whittington because neither of them had seen it before and because it was the one showing closest to where they lived.

"I know, angel," Eugene responded. He loved seeing Molly so happy; it was the best feeling in the world. They followed the crowd of children with their families up the carpeted stairs and into the upper gallery of the theatre. Scooting along the rows until they found their seats, Molly smiled and waved at every one of the little boys and girls. Upon finding their seats, Eugene bowed low and gestured for Molly to sit. "Your seat, my lady."

"Thank you, Gene," Molly blushed until the tip of her nose was coloured a healthy pink. She tripped over her own foot, and landed in her chair with an unceremonious crash.

Eugene smothered his mouth with a hand, biting back the giggles in his throat. "You okay, Molly?"

"I'm fine," Molly rubbed her hand. She smacked it against the plastic arm of the chair, and the palm smarted a bit. "Honestly. I'm just a bit uncoordinated today."

Eugene Dimmock couldn't hold himself back. "You had how many beers?"

* * *

I didn't even write this in my notebook, so this drabble is me just winging it. I don't like doing that, it makes me so nervous about my work.

Sunshine :)


	18. Ice Skating

**Prompt:** Ice Skating

**Inspired By: **Hampton Court winter wonderland

**Pairings:** Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Mycroft watched the snow falling on his windowpane, buffeted by the winds. On the way into work this morning, he passed an ice rink, and now he was devising a scheme to convince Gregory to come skating with him.

The problem was that in winter Gregory became akin to a hedgehog; he curled into a ball and tucked himself away under a pile of blankets, sheets and pillows.

"Just surprise him, sir," Anthea watched her boss spin the pen between his long fingers. She was wearing a red Santa hat with white pigtails that reached her shoulders. Sally had surprised her with it, and Anthea hadn't removed it all day. Mycroft wasn't cruel enough to order her to do so. "I think he'd enjoy it."

"You think so, Alexis?" The politician stilled his hand.

"Yes," Anthea said. She landed two brown envelopes on the desk. "You promised to ring Sanjay Rahman at two, sir."

"How long have I got to prepare?" Mycroft asked.

"Long enough, sir."

Gregory was wobbly to start with, but as he practised, he improved. Mycroft holding his hands, they carved patterns into the ice. With all the children in school, it was practically deserted. "Thank you, My," Greg smiled, gliding across the glassy rink. "This was a wonderful surprise, even if I end up covered in bruises."

* * *

Well, this wasn't as Mystrade-centred as I wanted it to go originally, but I missed having the office chats between Anthea and Mycroft. Bonus points for references to another Government who hasn't been mentioned in any drabble before.

Sunshine :)


	19. Paper Snowflakes

**Prompt:** Paper Snowflakes

**Inspired By:** Making paper snowflakes with my sisters

**Pairings: **Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

Sebastian Moran awoke to find the living room floor thickly covered in snow. He found this odd, considering that they were inside, and twenty floors up. Not to mention that each snowflake was about the size of his palm.

"Sebby, you're awake!" Jim squealed in delight. "Look what I've made!" He spread his arms out wide, gesturing the room.

Moran raised an eyebrow, "You've made an insane number of paper snowflakes."

"Aren't they wonderful?"

"No." Sebastian tramped his way through the snowdrift towards the kitchen. "I don't care if they're everyday miracles, or if they're so brilliant that each one is completely different to the next. They are messing up the floor."

Jim threw snowflakes up into the air and let them snow back down on him, "Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn't they?" He crunched his way through the door between the living room and the kitchen behind Seb, and squeezed his lover's rear. "I can fix that, you know."

"Please Jim; will you fix it for me so that my boyfriend isn't an insane bastard who wants to bring the weather inside with him?"

Moriarty looked unimpressed, "Have you thought about finding your Christmas spirit?"

"You're insane," Moran said. He twisted the lid off the milk and drank deeply. "My crazy bitch."

* * *

Okay, I'm really sorry that this idea kinda fell off the map. I've been rushed off my feet trying to revise, and then I had another idea which I've been working on, but I am trying to get this finished. Eventually. That said, I hope everyone has/had a magnificent day, and a very good New Year.

Sunshine :)


	20. Sleigh Rides

**Prompt:** Sleigh Rides

**Inspired By:** A chat with somebody about horse and carriage rides

**Pairings:** Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade

**Word Count:** 221 (excluding headers and footnotes)

* * *

"Gregory," Mycroft's voice was like honey, posh and sweet, in his ear. "Are you finished for the night?"

Greg looked at the coat in his hand. He had been in the process of putting it on when the phone had rung, blasting out Carry On My Wayward Son, his ringtone, much to Sally's delight and Dimmock's horror. "Yeah, I was just heading out. I'll be home soon."

"Don't worry, I'm in the area; I'll pick you up."

"Yeah, but I've got the car."

"Look out the window."

Greg shrugged his coat on fully, trying not to sigh audibly at his boyfriend's quirks. He leant on the windowsill and squinted through the London fog which clung to the thick glass. Outside the front of New Scotland Yard was a carriage, pulled by two horses. "Oh, my love. More money than sense is what you've got."

"Come and join me," Mycroft said insistently.

"On me way."

As he stepped off the kerb, Greg found himself being escorted to the carriage by a man in a black coat with silver fastenings. "Good evening," Mycroft hummed a smile. "Good day at work?"

"It was okay," Greg leant forward to press his lips to Mycroft's chapped, dry ones. "Sleigh ride?"

"'Tis the season, Gregory."

"You're so weird," Greg grinned, melting into the warmth of Mycroft's body.

* * *

There is a tiny Harry Potter reference in here, so if you can spot it then congratulations on being possibly the biggest fan to ever fan about Harry Potter. There's also a more obvious Supernatural reference, for the fans of Supernatural too.

Sunshine :)


End file.
